Sweet Misery
by She Who Shall Go Nameless
Summary: Eponine and Enjolras have both survived their endeavor at the barricade, and they find comfort for their lost hope in each other. E


-1**This is my first Les Misérables fic, based solely on the musical, so bear with me, and any feedback is welcome!**

Enjolras slumped over his coffee, miserable. He still could not understand why he returned, again and again, to these empty chairs. The memories of his friends, his comrades planning for a brighter tomorrow, wafted through the room like pipe smoke. They were stifling, slowly strangling him until he wanted to end it, until he thought that maybe it would be better to drown himself in the cold dregs in his mug.

The little bell over the door of the café jingled, and he looked up expectantly. He fully expected to see a group of his fellows, Lesgles, Feuilly, Grantaire, walking through the door just glowing with hope and determination. Instead he saw a thin, drained-looking teenaged girl dressed in rags. Eponine.

He knew this girl; she had been injured at the barricade, and still she stood a little crooked from the wound. Marius had mentioned her a few times, but he had never really listened. It didn't really matter.

Normally, Enjolras would have curtly asked her why she was there. It was common knowledge around the town that she came from a dishonest family. He normally would have held onto his purse tightly until she left, careful not to give her any chance to steal. Now, he didn't care.

Staring into his mug again, he listened to her shuffling, tentative footsteps. He couldn't even bring himself to look up when she sat at his table, directly across from him. They sat in leaden silence for what felt like hours.

Suddenly, a tiny, strangled noise split the silence and Enjolras found himself looking up at the creature in front of him.

Tears were pouring out of Eponine's eyes, eyes that were haunted by terrible things that she had never deserved to see. They were the eyes of a much older, wiser woman, and Enjolras found himself reaching over and taking her frail hand in his large one. He wondered if maybe her thievery and shenanigans were just a covering for her real, vulnerable self, a person whom he suddenly wanted to know and understand.

"'m sorry," Eponine whispered wetly. "I've disturbed your thoughts," she bowed her head and Enjolras watched a tear drip off her freckled, dirty nose. He was surprised to find himself caring for someone after being numb for so long. He leaned forward slightly and murmured back.

"Nonsense," he told her. "A lady's troubles are always my own."

Eponine blushed slightly and looked down again, swiping impatiently at her leaky eyes. "I'm no lady. You clearly know nothing of me, Monsieur Enjolras, though I 'ave 'eard much of you."

"That is ridiculous, Mademoiselle Eponine. You helped a dear friend of mine many times, with no thought for your own gain, and that alone shows that you deserve better than the crusts of society that you have always lived on."

Eponine looked up at him again, meeting his gaze steadily. Her blue eyes, like celestial orbs, drilled into his soul until he was forced to look down. His gaze rested on their entwined hands, and he gave her slender fingers a squeeze. "What is it that troubles you on such a fine day?" he asked curiously. From what he had heard, Eponine Thenardier was as tough as any man. It was certainly uncharacteristic of her to break down like this.

"'s silly, really," Eponine began, her quivery voice low. "I always knew that it would happen, ever since he met her, but I wasn' expecting 'im to come and tell me, expectin' me to be 'appy for him. I never knew men were so blind."

Enjolras was thoroughly confused. He had evidently missed something big, but he barely had the heart to ask for more. Eponine's eyes, which had just a moment ago been full of watery emotion, were now blank and cold as stone. There were no tears, but there was no Eponine, either. She was lost in the world of her memories. She stared at him, but he understood that she was really looking at something else, far away.

Enjolras continued to watch her until the silence felt stifling again, then he whispered, in a slightly gravelly voice, "Who? Who has caused you so much pain?"

She suddenly was back, looking at him with those big, pained eyes that looked as though they held an ocean of misery. For a moment, she did not answer. Then, so quietly that he almost missed it in the empty shop, she murmured, "Monsieur … Marius."

Enjolras stared. He remembered getting a wedding invitation that morning from Marius and Cosette, but he had thought nothing of it. Now, he could not help but think that her words were a dagger in his heart, although he did not really know why. Of course she loved Marius. It explained everything. Still, he felt oddly disappointed with her.

"I'm sorry," he said, not really sure why he was apologizing. It was just the only thing that he could think to say. He was suddenly and painfully aware of how her hand fit into his perfectly.

"Don' be," Eponine said vehemently, staring at him with suddenly blazing eyes. "I've learned now. Your lot don't understand, and ye' never will. I'm just lucky I 'aven't 'ad t' sell myself t' get by now the rebellion's over."

On that cheerful note, Eponine pulled her hand out of his and stood. She really could not have been more than sixteen. She made for the door and Enjolras followed, grabbing her arm. She spun around until they were practically embracing each other, Enjolras looking down at her and she up at him.

"I may not understand," Enjolras began, his hand brushing hair out of Eponine's eyes. They were far too close for comfort. He could feel the heat radiating off her small form, and for some reason it was turning his heart into a fluttering, trapped bird, trying frantically to beat its way out of his chest. "I may never understand. But I can help you."

Eponine leaned her head almost imperceptibly against his hand, two large tears seeping out of her eyes. "You can' 'elp me. No-one can." she croaked.

Enjolras cupped her face in both of his hands now, brushing her tears dry with his thumbs. His brain was sending off warning bells, but he didn't care. "Yes, I can. I have means. Anything you need, just say the word." He had no idea why he cared so much, and yet he found himself meaning every word. Maybe it was the thought that although he had failed Gavroche and the rest of his friends so thoroughly, he had the chance to help someone else, this girl whose heart was so broken, so utterly destroyed, that there was no hope left in her.

Eponine looked down at the lapels of his coat, reaching up to tug them straight. Finally she whispered, "You can't."

"I can," Enjolras insisted, his face so close to hers that her ragged breathing warmed his cheek. His frantic heart was pounding so hard that he could practically see the breast of his shirt twitching in time with it. "Just tell me."

All was quiet. Enjolras looked down at Eponine, waiting for her answer and thinking that he would go to the ends of the earth for her. It was strange to think that way for just one person, but he thought that maybe he now understood how Marius had felt when he had met Cosette.

Finally, Eponine responded, although if he had not been staring at her thin lips he would have missed it altogether. She made no sound, but her lips formed a single word that was evident even in the darkness of the café.

"Love."

Without thinking, Enjolras closed the small distance between them, pressing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.

For a moment, time froze. After what seemed an eternity, Enjolras felt Eponine respond to his actions as she reached up a shaking hand to cup his cheek. The bird that was his heart was doing a frantic dance as her body pressed against his.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they broke apart and he rested his forehead against hers. For an eon and a half, they simply stared into each others' eyes, breathing deeply. Suddenly, Eponine went back to herself and pulled away from him. He immediately missed her warmth. "What is wrong?" he whispered, taking her hand again.

"I…" Eponine stuttered. "I 'ave to be getting 'ome. My father is expectin' me."

"I…of course," he replied breathlessly, kissing her hand, once again the perfect gentleman.

With one last glance at him, Eponine turned and walked towards the door, the fingers of her right hand lingering over her wetted lips. At the last moment before she disappeared into the smoggy Paris night, he grabbed her hand and whirled her around again, pressing his lips to hers one more time.

"Meet me outside Notre Dame cathedral tomorrow. Seven o'clock," He whispered. He pressed his forehead to hers and leaned in even closer. "Please."

Eponine bobbed her head up and down in assent as she blushed. Enjolras was sure it was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen. She brushed her lips against his one last time before slipping out into the night.

Enjolras sighed happily and sat back down to his now cold tea. The café was still empty; the night was still cold and bleak, but for the first time in a long time he felt something where all had been dark and cold before. For the very first time since that day at the barricade, he felt as though there was something to live for, something other than the awful guilt that had plagued his every waking hour. Finally, there was a reason for him to be alive, and it had come to him in the form of a small, miserable street urchin.

He smiled as he thought of his next meeting with Eponine. It was something to truly look forward to in a world that had never looked darker.


End file.
